


Amity and Goodwill

by printers_devil



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimigard Week (Fire Emblem), Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, FE3H Monsterfucking Weekend, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Hegemon Edelgard von Hresvelg, Large Cock, Monster Pussy, Monsterfucking, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Transformation, Vaginal Sex, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printers_devil/pseuds/printers_devil
Summary: At the end of Azure Moon, Dimitri spares Edelgard—and he finds that Edelgard's Hegemon form has a peculiar hold over him.A late entry for Monsterfuck Weekend and Dimigard Week.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Dimigard Week, FE3H Monsterfucking Weekend 2020





	Amity and Goodwill

**Author's Note:**

> It is what it is. Kindly mind the tags. I would not mind more divine pulse nightmares in fic, please and thank you.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Edelgard said. "I gave you every excuse. _My_ aim was true. You will never regain full use of your hand because of me. And yet you persist in this—"

Dimitri had allowed her to keep her chambers. There were pleasant accommodations to be found elsewhere in the Imperial palace. Having made his wishes for the afternoon clear, he was bent over her like a servant, trying to undo the tiny pearl buttons on the back of her white dress. In the mirror before him, her face was indignant, impatient. The buttons would have been difficult to handle delicately before the war, and the hand of which she spoke helped matters not one bit. And so: he ripped it clean down the back, chemise, undergarments and all. It tore like paper. 

Edelgard went silent. Her hands flew up to hover before her body, as though she was going to fight back, but her fingers were already elongating. As Dimitri watched in the mirror, she flexed them over and over until they returned to their normal proportions, avoiding his eyes the entire time.

"I hope you weren't fond of it," Dimitri said. 

"I was. It was comfortable to walk in," Edelgard snapped. She stepped daintily out of the gown's wreckage. There was a flat, inhuman sheen to her eyes now. "You're the one who insists on parading me about Enbarr like a leashed dog. Don't you _dare_ compare me to a wolf."

She held her torn dress up to her chest. Two sharp black nubs unfolded themselves on her muscled back, and she set her jaw and stared hard into his eye, plainly determined not to show any discomfort.

"El, you misunderstand me," Dimitri said, running his palms over the nubs. Edelgard was stubborn and would hold off as long as she could, but soon, they would grow to their full length, and unfurl, and he would see the Hegemon's glorious wings.. "I've always cared for you. Even now, even when we were students—"

"And you've always been a bit of an idiot."

He ran a hand through her unbound hair, and was it his gentleness that angered the Edelgard in the mirror, or knowledge of what was to come? Would it be possible to crush her skull, transformed under the skin as she was... he didn't care to test it, not today. 

"You can't provoke me," Dimitri said, carding her hand through his hair again, dropping a kiss to her shoulder above her wings. 

Edelgard jammed her elbow into his gut, and he let her go **.** She spun about and pulled him down to her level with a hand in the front of his shirt. Before he closed his eye, he saw: her sclera had gone black, her pupils, red. 

-

Months ago, in her throne room, he'd chosen mercy over vengeance. 

The battle had been long, and he'd been in so much pain. He'd hardly felt the dagger— _the_ dagger—she'd thrown into his shoulder. As one wretched chorus the ghosts had howled at Dimitri to run her through, run her through, let them rest at long last. Edelgard was kneeling, she was defeated, she was exhausted, she was no monster now, she had no power, she was only a woman who would bleed and die at their feet.

He let Areadhbar fall to the ground. Somewhere in this husk of a woman was the girl who'd taught him to dance. _My dear, forgotten friend... because of you, I never lost my heart,_ she'd said.

"No more of this, El," he said, his voice hoarse. "You won't make me kill you."

"So you say," Edelgard replied hoarsely. She glared up at him, and while she was no longer the creature she'd been moments ago, there was an uncanny shine to her eyes when the light hit them. He blinked hard. The shine remained.

And he said, "So I vow."

Arrayed about Edelgard, the ghosts watched with hollow, empty eyes as Dimitri reached out his hand. The mortal audience below also watched, the last of the soldiers who'd made it through the palace with him, his old classmates, too, who'd believed he could be something better.

At his side, Byleth reached out a hand to Edelgard as well. 

-

Her explanation had sounded flimsy at first, and remained so when held up to the light: lost arcane knowledge and the power of her twin Crests had fueled the transformation. Something about her dead siblings—he had not known about them, the El of his childhood had never mentioned them—something about dark experiments, something about her working at the behest of unspeakable powers to end the Church of Seiros. Rhea was a dragon, apparently. 

Seteth reassured him this was all nonsense, though he admitted no one knew what happened to Ionius IX's remaining children. Edelgard was known to be ruthless. And, yes, Seteth explained, it was possible for a person to be born with two Crests, but such children rarely lived long enough to present them, let alone to be heard of far and wide. Edelgard, then, was nothing more than an aberration, a curious byproduct of generations of Imperial inbreeding. Truly, it was unfortunate that her defects had driven her to such extremes, but the Church and the the Goddess's own Holy Kingdom had prevailed in the end. 

For weeks, when Dimitri closed his eyes to sleep, he did not see his mother's carriage in flames, or Glenn dying to shield him. He saw Edelgard standing atop the dais, her twisted form flinging spells at his army and her lower wings spread out behind her like a Saint's halo. He saw Ingrid and her pegasus crushed; Felix snapped in half by her massive hands and tossed to the side; Mercedes and Annette torn to pieces; Ashe and Sylvain impaled on lances of light; and dear, dear Dedue, who had only just been returned to him by the Goddess, sacrificing himself to cover Dimitri's advance. Only Byleth ever remained untouched in these dreams, watching him across the battlefield with wide, haunted eyes.

They had all survived. It had not happened thus. He _knew_ it had not happened. The images haunted him regardless, more vivid than any ghost that had ever troubled him. 

Every day, Dimitri woke up in a cold sweat. He trained, and bathed, and sometimes he could eat an entire meal, if Dedue was at hand to sigh disapprovingly at his trying to leave the table early. He went about the ugly business of dismantling as much of Adrestia as he needed in order to keep Faerghus safe. Edelgard accompanied him when he called upon her to do so, and lent his reign even more credence. In private, she insulted him, assaulted him, reminded him that he was nothing but the Church's hound: a coward, a liar, and a murderer.

All of these things were true. He made no attempt to deny her charges. The Savior King the crowds cheered was the man who'd lived in the wilds of Fodlan for five years, subsisting on whatever he could beg or steal, and murdering anyone he thought might get him closer to taking Edelgard's head. 

The throne room had been the first time he'd met a monster more horrifying than himself. He'd needed to see the Hegemon again, to make sure it was real. It had taken a bit of violence to convince her the first time, but he'd done just that. 

-

Edelgard held him at eye level for a moment, and then she let him go. She let the crumpled remains of her dress fall to the floor and stood before him naked. She seemed so slender when she was clothed, her naked form surprised him every time. He'd crossed blades with her when they were students and been overjoyed that she could bear up under his strength. Today, he'd told himself the first few months at Garreg Mach, would be the day they met on the training ground. They'd have a satisfying bout. She'd take him aside afterward and tell him that she did remember him after all. He would ask her why her hair was different, and then tell her that nothing else had changed, that he was still glad to call her a friend, his dear, forgotten friend. 

It was not to be.

With a visible effort, Edelgard relaxed her body. The Hegemon was always there, waiting just beneath the surface. Dimitri watched in the mirror as the the buds of her primary wings wings blossomed, unfolding slowly. The secondary ones, the halo, far smaller now than they would be in her full form, burst from her lower back. The skin all around them was blackened and tight. 

She spread them wide. They caught the sun, and absorbed its light. "Will this be enough?" she asked. 

Some days it was. Not today, though. "More, please," he replied. 

She scowled, and made an outraged noise into his mouth when he bent down to kiss her. slow and deep. He kept his eyes open and watched her in the mirror. Already the change spread outward from her wings. 

Dimitri picked her up, to feel it against his body. Her legs squeezed around his waist, and he basked in the high nervous noise she made when the ridge of his cock pressed against her bare cunt. Her weight was negligible to begin with, and he had the sudden thought that when she was transformed, her bones might be hollow, like a bird's. With one hand on the back of her head, Dimitri deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth and running it along her sharp teeth. 

"You an idiot to provoke me to this," Edelgard rasped into the side of his neck, as the change took her further. Her skin grew tighter, more leathery beneath his palms, and she clung to him. "What if I took it into my mind to kill you?" 

"Then you would kill me, El," Dimitri said, pulling away to look into her unnatural eyes. Soon, all her skin from the neck down would be black and hard, and he would see the Hegemon in her full glory, in miniature, splayed out beneath him. 

"You do care for me," she sighed. "Idiot." 

Her kisses grew languid. She rubbed herself slowly against the fine fabric of his shirt. When he fucked her as a normal woman, she was reserved, determined not to enjoy his touches, though she nearly always succumbed in the end. Only as the beast did Edelgard take what he gave her freely, with wild abandon. 

-

There was a speech Dimitri had given—which Seteth had written for him, Dimitri had no gift for words—about the amity and goodwill that could be achieved between two nations when they set aside their differences and reached out their hands in friendship. At his side, Edelgard had been and remained the portrait of penitent royalty, with her bowed head and her stark white gowns. 

When Edelgard wasn't warming Dimitri's bed, she made herself useful. These were the terms of her surrender. It was Byleth who'd gotten Edelgard to swallow her pride in the end. Byleth, the Ashen Demon, had calmly pulled out a very long knife, pinned Edelgard to the table by the throat, and explained to her _how this was going to go_. 

Only when no one was looking did Dimitri see the wrath and disgust writ large on Edelgard's face. Having killed his way through camps and mansions full of people to get to a target, he could very well envision what she was thinking of doing to the people who gawked at her and tittered behind their hands. He kept her close to his side for everyone's continued health. In private, once he'd held Edelgard down and made her come enough times, she was a fount of information about the intricacies of Imperial politics. It made him look far more savvy than he was. 

She had recollections of their mother, too. It felt dirty to speak of Patricia when he'd was holding Edelgard in his arms, but he was hungry to know more of the woman who'd been so kind and dear to him when he was a child. (Her ghost's eyes bored into him every time he fucked her daughter. _You don't understand,_ he told Patricia when they were in private, _I care for her, this is the only way to keep her safe. I lost her once already—twice._ You _only lost her once._ But Patricia never spoke a word to him.) 

Byleth said: _You'll do what you think is right. If this is the path you've chosen..._ _I'm the Archbishop now. I'll back you. Seteth won't say no to me._

Felix shouted at him: _Every moment you keep that woman alive, you spit on my father's grave._ And Rodrigue's shade never let Dimitri forget it.

And Edelgard said, panting in his arms when he was through with her: _Kill me or marry me, Dimitri, but for the love of all you hold dear, don't keep me like this._

-

Dimitri lay her gently down on the bed. Her wings had grown to their full span. They spread out the clean white counterpane beneath her like ink stains. He did should have done when he came into the room, which was to sweep a hand under her pillows for weapons. Winning a war was no excuse to become careless. He touched metal, pulled out a little stiletto, and let her go long enough to bend the metal into a knot. No more needed to be said. Her attempts to kill him were routine at this point, and were no less than he deserved for keeping her here. 

The change took her slower now. It covered her breasts, now her belly, now hiding the pale wispy white hair on her mound and replacing it with beautiful night-black. Her muscular thighs, next, and down to her beautiful toes. He passed his palm over his cock, gripping it through his trousers and stroking himself. 

She watched him watching her, her black eyes inscrutable, disinterested.

"You're magnificent," Dimitri said. "This body, your power.... I could make myself come watching you like this, El." 

He felt his ears burn. He had no head for impassioned words, and she never showed the least interest in them, or in his body. Very well: he knew he was unpleasant to look upon. He undressed slowly for her regardless, in the foolish hope that she might praise him this time. He let his shirt drop from his shoulders, took his time unbuttoning his trousers. Only when his cock bobbed free did Edelgard sit up on one elbow and stare. At least he always pleased her in this regard. 

"Turn over," he said. 

For once, Edelgard didn't argue, but rolled onto her belly. He clambered onto the bed and straddled her thighs to keep her still, then traced a hand from the base of her spine up the midpoint of her back, to rest in-between her two sets of wings. She squirmed beneath his weight, her muscles flexing under her skin in ways no Goddess could have designed. 

Her wings folded to rest at her sides, like a bird's. He rubbed the base of each one in turn, stroking the hard skin. He'd brought her off touching them before, his cock buried deep inside her, but today he was content to play with them. At his quiet urging, she stretched them out once more and held them there. 

Here was the most pleasant surprise of all: her carapace was gloriously sensitive. He bent over her, pressing kisses to the nape of her neck and the tops of her shoulders, her upper back. He took his time worshiping the place where her wings met her body. He gripped the base of one wing hard, and she let out a broken cry that made the mirror and the expensive paintings on the walls tremble in their frames. Fully transformed, she would have shaken the palace to its foundations with her pleasure, he was sure of it.

So much power, all for him. This, more than anything, made him press his cock into the smooth curve of her ass and grind against her. The monster in him knew the monster in her. Rodrigue's death, Byleth catching him before he could leave for Enbarr… they had not made him better, not really. They had simply realized he needed to be better at hiding what he really was. And all of it had led to this moment, with Edelgard shaking, rutting against the sheets, her legs straining against the cage of his thighs.

"Dimitri," she moaned, her voice strangely doubled in over itself, the woman and the monster speaking as one. "Fuck me, or leave."

"At your command," Dimitri replied. She'd have her pleasure when Dimitri allowed it, and no sooner. 

"Don't you dare mock me."

"As you say, El." 

"Don't _call_ me that." 

He ran a finger along the length of one of her lower wings. She shuddered. It was so easy to reduce her in this way. To think that this form had nearly decimated an army, that she had sacrificed her humanity to attain it, and it was so vulnerable to a simple touch. He took his cock in hand and stroked slowly. There was no need to rush, he'd cleared his entire night for this. 

Braced on her forearms, Edelgard turned around to glare at him. Her sclera had swallowed the red of her pupils, and her gaze upon him was entirely black. When she saw him stroking herself, her lips parted in arousal; one of her clawed hands reached out to him. He took it, heedless of the way her nails cut into his palm and made him bleed. The Goddess had fashioned him to withstand her. All of his strength was for _this_. 

"Do you—El, would you like my cock?" he asked, squeezing that hand. 

Visibly disgusted—with herself, with him—Edelgard nodded. 

He turned over so he could see her beautiful face. She looked blissful and calm. Her wings folded back down. One of his knees was between her legs, and he paid her grinding against his thigh no heed. He'd stop her if he thought she was going to come. He squeezed one of her breasts hard to watch her freeze in anticipation. They were so small, they fit into his hand perfectly. He leaned down and took the other breast into his mouth, sinking his teeth into it with all of strength—in her human skin, he might have ripped out a chunk of her delicate flesh, but this merely made her moan. The elegant golden bedframe, the room's windows, the mirror, the walls themselves shook this time, and the vibration wound up Dimitri's spine. 

Her hands were always the last thing to change, as though she was reluctant to give up that final piece of her humanity. Her long-jointed fingers wrapped around his head now, holding him to her as he bit and sucked at her breasts, her grip every bit as powerful and implacable as his own.

"Dimitri," she said softly, her voice nearly human. She released his head, her hips working frantically against his thigh. Then she ran that hand down his chest, to disdainfully remove his own hand and grip his cock, fit the head of it to her cunt.

She was so much tighter like this than when she was pretending to be a human; Dimitri had tried both, to compare. And she was wet for him as he breached her, her heat engulfing him.

He burned for her, too. With one easy shove, he sank inside of her to the halfway mark, watching his ruddy flesh disappear inside her. The other Edelgard could only take this much comfortably, though he forced her take even more. This Edelgard was so tight around him, and yet she did not complain. She watched with a hunting beast's stillness as he pulled out of her, just enough to feel her wetness drag against him, sucking him back in. Her heels hooked around his lower back, and she urged him back into her.

This time he did not pause. This time, meeting her unblinking stare with his own, he slammed into her. He gave her no quarter, and felt the noise she made in his very teeth.

"I hope this is not all the Tempest King has to bring to bear on me," Edelgard said coldly, once she'd recovered herself. 

In response, he ran a finger over her face, paying special heed to the sliver of white flesh at her chin. Some days, he gave in to her provocations, took her swiftly, pumped her full of his come, and left. Today he intended to take his time, and his will was just as implacable as hers. The Emperor might act as though she did not care for his attentions, but the Hegemon did not—could not, perhaps—pretend to be unaffected by him. It took some doing, some rough treatment, but her hips rolled against his, meeting each of his hard thrusts in a slow, easy rhythm. She could take him forever, he was sure of it. 

He fucked her slowly, pulling her off of his cock until just the head of him was inside her. Only when she squirmed for it, the high noise she made undercut by the subterranean rumble in her voice, did he push back into her. The novelty of someone taking his entire cock... he never tired of it. If he could, he would make her transform every day, just for the feel of his hips flush against hers. But he was a king, and his time was not his own. 

Beads of his sweat fell on her dull skin as he reached beneath her body to play with her wings again. Edelgard shook beneath him, and cunt got even tighter around him, impossibly so. Had he been a weaker man than he already was, he might have come then and there, but this was a rare occasion, Edelgard letting herself go; it was to be savored. 

He savored it. His Crest had certain benefits. 

She took him perfectly. She was so wet around him. Her carapace was unyielding, and the knowledge that he could not hurt her in any way, not even when he wrenched her thigh up around his hip for leverage, not even when he pounded into her, heedless of her pleasure, was intoxicating. 

His release was coming, though; he lost his rhythm, his thrusts becoming short and jerky.

"I'm—I'm going to spill inside you, El," he said, and to his embarrassment he felt nearly as shy as he sounded, despite the number of times he'd come inside her, "may I?"

A wordless roar of assent.

The orgasm took him swiftly. He felt a moment of sweet oblivion. No ghosts, no duties, no vengeance denied, no unpleasant political realities. Only a monster in his arms, who was herself coming around his cock, milking him of everything he was worth. To think he'd wanted to kill her—

Then he did not think. 

He lay with his full weight atop her once it was over. In the silence, he waited for the recriminations to start—from Edelgard, from his ghosts—but none came. Edelgard stroked his hair, her eyes still black. Then she sighed, and her wings and armor dissolved into dust, and then into nothing. 

Edelgard, the mere human, propped herself up on one arm, looking down at him. Her long hair shaded Dimitri from the early evening sun. Her perfect face was deathly pale, but she did not seem angry. There was a cold determination in her eyes. 

"Kill me or marry me, but don't keep me like this," she said, as always did. "I made my decisions to become that _thing_ in the full knowledge that my two Crests would burn up my life faster than they might have otherwise. I won't waste the time I have left for your amusement."

More tales about her Crests. Dimitri would have to ask Seteth in detail what he knew about Edelgard's monstrous form. Seteth poked holes in her stories so readily, and Hanneman, whom Dimitri might have questioned in more detail, had chosen the wrong side in the war. The ghosts crowding in at the corner of his vision remained unconvinced that this was better than putting her head on a pike, but they had to live with him as he had to live with them. They would never rule him again. He had made that vow to himself over Rodrigue's body.

"I'm happy with our arrangement," Dimitri said.

"No one will care if you cut my throat," Edelgard replied, as though he hadn't spoken at all. She lowered herself to the bed and put a forearm over her eyes. "Break my neck. Put a pillow over my face. Make it fast, and stop subjecting me to these indignities." 

If he were to kill her, he would make it intimate, slow. He'd put care and thought into it. 

"El, I love you. You're the last family I have," Dimitri said. "I have no choice. Besides, you enjoy it."

Here came her familiar reproach, sweeping past his _I love you_ : "We are _not_ family—it was a secret marriage," she snapped, "it was hardly legitimate. By your own admission, there is but one line in the palace chapel records attesting to its existence, and the cleric who witnessed the vows is long dead. How do you _know_ she was Anselma von Arundel, Dimitri? She could have been anyone, she could have been—" 

And here came Dimitri's familiar response, which was to pull her into his arms. Edelgard struggled against him, still talking about their mother's identity, and how she most certainly did not enjoy this, but he held her fast until she exhausted herself. 

When she had, she looked sullenly up at him. Like this, small and naked in his grasp, one could hardly believe she could turn into a being of terrible power. When this was all over, when he was sure Adrestia would trouble Faerghus no longer, he would take her back to Fhirdiad with him, out into the deep woods around the city, and bid her grow to her full size. It would be a marvel. 

Rather than tell her this ambition, Dimitri asked, "May I lay with you?" 

"I'm sure you'll do whatever you like," Edelgard replied, and again, the light hit her sidelong, her eyes shone, and she lay herself down on her belly beside him, heedless and trembling. 


End file.
